


Delicate

by rosehathaway



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, In which Bughead promptly defines their relationship, Missing Scene, because don't tell me they didn't talk about it at some point, betty and jughead talk about the word that starts with a b, especially after that comment veronica lodge made in 1x08, so this is just pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 14:52:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16097924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosehathaway/pseuds/rosehathaway
Summary: Defining a relationship isn't that hard when you're an idiot in love.A.k.a. Jughead and Betty put a label on it.





	Delicate

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, thanks to everyone who commented and liked the first drabble I posted for Bughead. It made all the difference in motivating me to write more. Second of all, this is what happens when all I think about is Bughead and then Taylor Swift comes on the radio and I start daydreaming.
> 
> Huge thanks to my beta Sarah! She has a cutie pie baby to handle and she still finds time to make my writing better. How awesome is she?

Jughead plopped down on her bed, watching her as she got ready for the baby shower. It felt so normal, as if this was something they always did together. Like he always waited on her bed, reading something from her extensive book collection while she got ready for whatever event they were attending.

It was almost too easy to feel normal about it.

Which reminded Jughead they had a conversation pending. One he didn’t necessarily want or know how to have, but one that needed to happen.

“So, the word that starts with a _b_ , huh?” He put down the Harper Lee masterpiece he was reading, feeling guilty that he wasn’t paying it the attention it deserved.

Betty let out a soft breath, her cheeks flushing to what was quickly becoming his favourite shade of pink. If you had ever asked Jughead if he liked the colour pink, he would’ve laughed sarcastically. Pink wasn’t exactly his colour. He preferred dark brooding colours that suited his mood and aesthetic. But it was the colour he had started to associate with her. The pale pastel pink of her sweaters. The deep coral of her lips. The soft pink glow on her cheeks when she blushed.

He especially loved making her blush, which lately, to his pleasure, happened quite often.

Despite the nervous knot in his stomach, he found himself smiling. To be honest, he never took part in those awkward conversations. He had always been weird—the weirdo born on the the wrong side of the tracks. So far, that fact hadn’t exactly offered many opportunities to acquire experience in the dating department. Meaning he’s never had a girlfriend before. Perhaps part of it was because he always seemed to have eyes for one girl—a girl who never noticed him in that way, because she was pining for someone else. He never imagined, not even in his wildest dreams, that after years of watching her love another boy, she would somehow end up with him. The loner kid with a beanie.

And yet here they were.

He didn’t know what it was that made him feel this way. Maybe it was the soft lines of her smile when Veronica mentioned he was her boyfriend, or the way she looked at him to gawk at his reaction. Or maybe it was their second kiss—the one she pressed against his lips after he awkwardly mumbled something about _people who have gone through what we’ve gone through._ The truth was, this was the first time he wouldn’t mind putting a label on the delicate thing blooming between them.

So when he nervously glanced at her when Veronica brought up the dreaded word that starts with a _b_ , Jughead caught Betty’s smile, and for a moment he allowed himself to dream. Being Betty Cooper’s boyfriend. He swore his life gained meaning.

“It was just Veronica being Veronica,” she assured him, almost as if she wanted to give him an out. Did she think he needed it? Wanted it? “It doesn’t have to mean anything. We don’t have to…” What? _Define it? Put a label on it?_ He wanted to tell her it was a bit too late for that. A certain Lodge made sure of that.

“Do you want it to? Mean something?” _Do you want me?_

Betty’s lips parted in shock as she searched for an answer to give him, but couldn’t come up with anything. Before she could convince her startled brain to start working again, Jughead saved her from the dilemma and continued his sentence.

“Because I do.”

“I do, too,” she admitted, her eyes widening slightly at the sudden realization that he might want this as much as she did. That the kiss in her bedroom meant something, and so did all the moments before and after it.

Her lips curved into one of those special _Betty_ smiles that she reserved for the people she loved, and he found himself happy he was one of them.

Neither of them said the words. He didn’t ask her to be his girlfriend. But the silent understanding hung between them in the air, making it sparkle with electricity—making the words he had stuck in his head echo louder. _Will you be mine?_

He slipped his hand into hers, intertwining their fingers, surprised at how well they fit together. But then again, Betty Cooper never ceased to surprise him.

* * *

“Thank you for being there last night, Jug. It meant a lot to me.”

“According to Veronica, it’s what boyfriends do.” He couldn’t resist trying out the word for himself. “Thank you for not freaking out about my dad being a Serpent. It was nice having someone on my side.”

“I’ll always be on your side, Jug. You just have to let me in.” Her hand cupped his cheek, her thumb caressing his skin gently. He leaned in, enjoying the tenderness of the moment. It was as if up until that point, something in his life was missing, and Betty was that piece of a puzzle that just _fit._ He almost found himself grateful for the death of Jason Blossom—without it, they may never have been brought together.

“I promise, no more secrets,” he murmured, leaning into the crook of her neck, burying his feelings there along with his face. He didn’t want her to see him like this—raw and vulnerable. When Archie came in sputtering accusations, he fully expected her to turn from him, and instead, she stayed. She didn’t look at him with hate or disdain.

People staying wasn’t something he was used to. Not when his own mother walked out with his sister, leaving him behind to face whatever fate was meant for him. But Jughead did think it was something he could potentially _get_ used to. If staying meant a certain blonde whose arms were currently enveloping him.

Lately, when her hand would slip into his, or when she’d rest her head on his shoulder he felt a sense of peace. Belonging. His life no longer resembled stumbling through an endless maze, always surrounded by fog and darkness.

Maybe she was his light. And if she was, he wanted to drown in the brightness of it. He wanted to inhale it and drink it until it lit up every dark corner of his soul, because maybe, just maybe, Betty Cooper was his salvation.

Then he pulled back, his eyes meeting hers, and there was no maybe. She _was_ his salvation. The deep pools of forest green gazing at him with something that made his eyes prickle.

“So just to get this clear, if you’re my girlfriend now,” he paused to marvel at that sentence, “does that mean I can kiss you anytime I want?”

Her laughter echoed around her room as she nodded her head enthusiastically before finding his lips already on hers. It was different from their previous kisses—in a way that they both leaned into it, neither of them surprised anymore at the warmth that spready over them.

His hand settled on her lower back, pulling her closer, so he could explore her mouth, taking his time, because that was apparently something they had now. Time. Together.

“When is your mom coming home?” He whispered between kisses.

“Not for another hour,” she replied, pulling back to scan his face. “Why?”

“That’s plenty of time.” His lips spread into a carefree grin, her face lighting up and matching his own.

He walked her to the bed and for the first time ever, Jughead Jones engaged in what could only be described as a make out session.

And as cliché as that sounded, he didn’t mind one bit.  


End file.
